I knew I shouldn’t have told her about the slap.
“Shut up. I’ll tell her . . .” Although it might work in my favor not to, actually. “Maybe,” I add.
Lillian rolls her eyes, again. She rolls her eyes almost as much as Tessa does.
“She’s difficult, and I know what I’m doing, okay?” I think I do, at least. I know exactly how to push her buttons to get what I want.
“You need to dress up tonight; the place we’re going is disgustingly fancy,” she warns me while eyeing the dress with a twist of the hanger.
“Hell no, I’m not. What makes you think I’m going, anyway?”
“Why not? You want to make the missus a little less pissed off, don’t you?”
The sound of her words throws me off for a moment. “ ‘The missus’? Don’t call her that.”
She slaps a white button-up against my chest. “Just wear a nice shirt at least, otherwise my dad will give you shit about it all night,” she says and steps into the dressing room.
A few minutes later she comes out in the black dress. It looks good on her—she’s hot and all—but I immediately start fantasizing about how Tessa would look in it. It would be much tighter: Tessa’s boobs are much bigger than Lillian’s, Tessa’s hips are a little wider, so she would fill the dress much better.
“It’s not as ugly as the rest of the shit in here,” I half compliment, and she closes the curtain with yet another eye roll and a middle finger.
Chapter thirty-six
TESSA
I stare into the long mirror and ask Landon, “Are you sure this looks okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine,” he says with a smile. “Can we try to remember that I’m a guy, though?”
I sigh, then chuckle. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s not my fault you’re my only friend.”
The dark sparkly dress feels odd against my skin; the material is hard, and the small beads scratch me a little when I move. The small clothing boutique in town didn’t have much to choose from, and I surely wasn’t going to pick the hot-pink dress made entirely of tulle. I need something to wear to this dreaded dinner tonight, and Hardin’s suggestion that I wear jeans isn’t going to work.
“Do you think he’ll even come back before it’s time to leave?” I ask Landon.
Hardin took off, as always, after our fight and hasn’t been back since. He hasn’t called or texted either. He’s probably with the mystery girl with whom he loves to discuss our problems. You know, the girl he can talk to better than he can talk to his own girlfriend. In his anger, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did something with her to spite me.
No . . . he wouldn’t.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Landon says. “I hope he does. My mom will be disappointed if he doesn’t.”
“Yeah.” I push another pin into my bun and grab my mascara off of the bathroom counter.
“He’ll come around, he’s just stubborn.”
“I don’t know if we will, though.” I sweep the small brush across my lashes. “I’m reaching my breaking point, I can feel it. You know what I felt last night when he told me he was with another girl?”
“What?” He stares blankly at me.
“I think this is just the end of the turbulent love story.” I try to make a joke, but it falls flat.
“It’s weird hearing you say that, you of all people,” he says. “How are you feeling?”
“A little angry, but that’s it. It’s like I’m numb to it now, to all of it. I just don’t have it in me to keep doing this over and over. I’m beginning to think he’s a lost cause, and that breaks my heart,” I say, forbidding myself from crying.
“Nobody’s a lost cause. They just think they are, so they don’t even bother to try sometimes.”
“Are you guys ready?” Karen’s voice calls from the living room, and Landon assures her that we’ll be down any minute. I slide on my new pair of black heels with straps at the ankles. Unfortunately, they’re as uncomfortable as they look. It’s times like this that I miss wearing Toms every day.
Hardin still hasn’t returned by the time we pile into the car. “We can’t wait any longer,” Ken says through a disappointed frown.
“It’s fine, we can bring him something back,” Karen sweetly offers, knowing that’s not the solution but trying her best to calm her husband’s irritation.
Landon looks over at me, and I offer a smile to assure him that I’m fine. He tries to distract me the whole drive talking about various students we know, making little jokes about how they are in class. Especially some of the ones in the religion course.
As Ken pulls up to our destination, I see that the restaurant is exquisite. The building is a massive log cabin, big enough to be a lodge, and the inside contradicts the woodsy feel of the exterior. It’s modern and sleek, black and white everywhere, with gray accents along the walls and floor. The lighting is right on the verge of being too dark, but it adds to the atmosphere. Unexpectedly, my dress is the brightest thing in the room; when the light hits the glittering beads, they shine like diamonds in the dark, which everyone seems to notice.
“Scott,” I hear Ken tell the beautiful woman behind the rostrum.
“The rest of your party is already here.” She smiles, her perfect teeth white nearly to the point of blinding.
“Party?” I turn to Landon, and he shrugs.
We follow the woman to a table in the corner of the room. I hate the way everyone seems to be staring at me because of this dress. I should have gone with the hot-pink monstrosity; it would have attracted less attention. A middle-aged man knocks over his drink as we walk by, and Landon pulls me closer to his side as we pass the creep. The dress isn’t inappropriate; it rests just above my knees. The problem is that it was made for someone with a much smaller bust than me, causing the built-in bra to act as a push-up, giving me maximum cleavage.